


Desperate For Some Kind of Contact

by bittlebunny (american_homos_story)



Series: Assorted AUs [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, I can't stop, M/M, yes its another AU I'm s ORRY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/american_homos_story/pseuds/bittlebunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I just, uh, I don’t like the subway as is,” Eric says through sharp breaths. “And now we’re fucking <em>stuck god damn it why aren’t we moving?</em>” he hisses.</p><p>Then there’s a large hand around his, squeezing gently.</p><p>“Is this okay?”</p><p><em>Yes, so okay</em>. Eric nods, hoping the man can see him in the darkness. The gentle hum of people around them is still droning on, but he’s not paying attention anymore.</p><p>“Breathe with me?” the man asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate For Some Kind of Contact

**Author's Note:**

> This is yet another prompt for a tumblr drabble (requested by my buddy [Clare aka bshittyknights](http://bshittyknights.tumblr.com) on tumblr) that kinda got much longer than I meant for it to. And I really want to continue it maybe but I have so many other fic things I'm working on ahhh sorry about that!!  
> The prompt was: **_meeting on a train ride au_**  
>  Title taken from First Train Home by Imogen Heap (the song doesn't apply to the fic really but it has the word train and I liked this lyric so what can ya do?)

Eric Bittle is not a huge fan of riding on trains. Cars, he can do. Planes, even. But there’s something about trains that makes him feel jittery. Trapped.

Even worse than the train, though, is the subway. It’s dark, and cramped, and completely underground. The whole world could just collapse on you, and you’d have nowhere to go.

He really doesn’t  _want_  to think about that as he’s sitting there, grip tight around his phone. It’s not like he can help it, though. Trying  _not_  to think about something is damn near impossible.

He’s on his way to his best friend Lardo’s first big art exhibit in New York City. It’s a huge deal for her, and he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Unfortunately, that means taking the subway. Eric doesn’t want to text her, freaking out about how nervous and freaked out he is. He knows her nerves are already shot, so he’s elected to sit in silence and try to breathe his way through. The ride is only 10 minutes. He’ll be fine.

The woman next to him has a lot of children. They haven’t stopped moving, so he can’t tell exactly how many. He’s been kicked and elbowed too many times for his liking, and he’s actually about to say something to her when they pull up to the next stop. She sighs and manages to collect the children and usher them off the train.

Eric breathes a sigh of relief, squeezing his eyes shut. He hears a voice above him say, “Is this seat taken?”

His eyes fly open. The first thing he sees is the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes, looking at him inquisitively. They belong to the most attractive man Eric’s ever seen. High, defined cheekbones. Dark hair. Tall, muscular—maybe from another country, from the sound of his accent. It’s not quite French…Canada, maybe! He’s dressed formally; dress pants, a simple white shirt with a blue tie and a jacket. It’s a classic look, overdone some might say, but it makes Eric want to curl up in a ball.

“Um, huh, what?” he asks.

The stranger laughs. “Is somebody sitting in this seat next to you?”

“Oh! No! Somebody was before, a woman with like ten kids, but it’s empty now! All yours! Haha.”

He nods and sits down, his shoulder brushing Eric’s as he does. He feels so alive, yet he wants to die. His face must be so red, but hey, at least he’s not thinking about his death via subway anymore. The doors close and they start to move again.

Eric desperately wants to unlock his phone to text Lardo and tell her all about this random, beautiful man who just walked into his life. But he’s sitting right next to him. He could easily see Eric typing in all caps about ‘THE HOTTEST FUCKING MAN I’VE EVER SEEN SWEET JESUS.’ Plus, it’ll be more fun to tell her about it in person. That way he can relive the experience.

His pulse has just come back down when the lights start to flicker. He looks around, a little nervous, but everybody else seems to be going about business as normal. He doesn’t take the subway very often; maybe flickering lights were normal?

No, they’re slowing down now, and they just left the last stop. The lights flicker again, then die completely as the train screeches to a stop.

His breath catches in his throat. He’s read articles online about weird shit happening on subways, people getting injured or even dying. Stuff going wrong. He can feel himself shaking slightly, his breathing labored. There’s a gentle annoyed hum from the people around him. One of the dim yellow lights on the wall outside is the only light. The only person he can really see is the beautiful man next to him.

A minute goes by. They’re still not moving. Maybe he’s actually dead and this is some kind of special hell, chosen especially for him because of that one time a tray of cupcakes fell on the floor and he was so upset and tired that he didn’t bother to bake more and served them anyway.

“Hey, are you alright?”

He jumps when he hears the voice right in his ear, clutching at his chest.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize how close I was,” the man mutters.

Eric tries to quietly laugh, but it comes out as more of a shaky whine. He swallows and tries to breathe. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?” he says defensively. He can’t show weakness in front of Adonis himself.

“Sorry,” he says, apologizing again. “Your breathing just sounded a little panicked and…” he trails off.

Now Eric feels bad. This guy is just trying to help.

“I just, uh, I don’t like the subway as is,” Eric says through sharp breaths. “And now we’re fucking  _stuck god damn it why aren’t we moving?”_  he hisses.

Then there’s a large hand around his, squeezing gently.

“Is this okay?”

 _Yes, so okay._  Eric nods, hoping the man can see him in the darkness. The gentle hum of people around them is still droning on, but he’s not paying attention anymore.

“Breathe with me?” the man asks.

Again, Eric nods. He hears him inhale and tries to do the same, not quite getting a full breath. He lets it out hastily, trying to match the beautiful stranger’s tempo. After a few breaths, he can feel his body and mind relaxing. His hands uncurl, his leg stops bouncing up and down. His lungs fill with air in time with the man’s. He can’t help the grin that accompanies the relief. The man smiles in return, his eyes still somehow so vibrantly blue in the yellow light.

“I’m Jack,” he says once Eric has calmed down. He hasn’t moved his hand.

“Bit—Eric,” he responds, almost using his nickname to introduce himself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bit Eric,” Jack jokes.

Eric laughs breathlessly as the lights blink on and the train starts to move again. He looks down at the hand still wrapped around his and both men sheepishly pull away.

“Thank you,” he mutters, blushing again.

“Not a problem.”

After a few minutes they get to Eric’s stop. He stands up, turning quickly and almost tripping over his words. “It was nice meeting you, Jack. And thanks again!”

Jack nods and smiles warmly, holding up a hand to wave him goodbye. Eric is pretty sure his face is still red as he climbs the stairs back out into the real world, not entirely convinced what just happened was real.

 

* * *

 

“—and I swear Lards, it was almost like he was hitting on me. But that couldn’t be it, he was just trying to help. Lord, I’m so embarrassed that I freaked out with him sitting next to me.”

Lardo laughs, gently bumping his hip, being careful as to not spill their wine. “Hey, but most strangers probably wouldn’t have been as helpful either, right? Plus, you never know. It could’ve been a combination of both! Maybe that was his weird way of flirting! You didn’t happen to get a creeper shot, did you?”

Eric raises an eyebrow at her. “You know damn well I’m not that kind of boy! You just called it a ‘creeper shot’ for a reason, honey.”

She shrugs. “We’ve all done it once or twice. I’m intrigued, can you blame me?”

He rolls his eyes. He’s been there about an hour now; Lardo had showed him around the gallery and showed him the pieces she’s proudest of. She likes to play a game with Bitty where she forces him to try to guess what each piece is about, what it’s supposed to represent, whatever. Of course, she full embraces the idea that art is subjective and open to interpretation, but she likes to try to get her best friend to guess  _her_  interpretation.

Now they’re just strolling around, drinking wine out of fancy glasses and watching the people come and go. Eric had been polite and waited until he had seen everything to bring up his own story.

He sighs. “If only I had encounters like that every day.”

She scoffs. “Shit like that happens to you all the time, Bits. Just last week, you told me about the hot guy you saw walking—”

He waves a hand at her. “Naw, this was different than just seeing a hot guy in public. He held my damn hand!”

“This is true.”

“Lord, was he perfect. I mean, he was tall and so  _built_ , he had these amazing blue and eyes, and I mean, he just—Holy shit. Lardo…he’s here.”

He’s sure his eyes are bulging out of their sockets. Sure enough, it’s the same man from the train coming into the gallery. He looks a little flustered and he’s holding his jacket, folded over his arm.

“No. Fucking. Way,” Lardo breathes.

Eric nods. “Yep, that’s…That’s him alright. Do you know him!?”

She shakes her head. Her mouth is hanging slightly open. “Never seen him. He’s…wow.”

“Yeah.  _Wow_. What the hell is he doing here?”

Lardo shrugs. “Why don’t you go ask him?”

Eric is about to respond when Jack looks in their direction.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hisses as he grabs Lardo’s arm, turning her around quickly and walking in the opposite direction. “I can’t just…I don’t know how to talk to boys, Lardo! I never really have! I just start to yammer on and I get all nervous and sweaty. Plus, he just got here.”

“Well, good thing he’s a man, not a boy,” she jokes.

“Can’t disagree with you there,” he sighs, cautiously looking over his shoulder.  
  


* * *

  
Half an hour later, Bitty finds himself back in the same vicinity as Jack, Lardo still on his arm.

He groans as he sees Jack, trying to tug Lardo away again.

“Bits, stop being a child!”  
  
“What if he sees me?”

“What if? What’s the worst that could happen? He could—Oh damn, Bits, did you see his ass? That’s legit right there. Guy’s probably an underwear model with buns like that. Bits? Are you okay?”

Yes, he’s okay, thank you very much. He’s just trying to stare wistfully in peace, is all. Lardo chuckles.

“Alright, give me this,” she says, grabbing the glass from Eric’s hand.

“Huh?”

“You’re talking to him. Right now.”

“ _What_?! Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” she says as she starts to push him towards Jack. He tries to dig his feet in, but the marble floor is polished and slippery, and he really doesn’t want to spill wine on either of them. They start to bicker in loud whispers and people are turning their heads, but Lardo doesn’t care. It’s her damn exhibit, after all.

Finally, she spins him around just as they’re approaching Jack, whose head has just turned to see the source of the noise.

“Later,” she whispers. Then she speeds away, trying to quiet her giggling. He almost goes after her, but he’s made eye contact with Jack.

“So, uh, hi again?”  
  


* * *

  
Ten minutes later, Eric has another glass of wine in his hands and a smile on his face. He’s walking through the gallery again, this time with Jack. They haven’t talked much, mostly because Jack has been so in awe of the art around him.

Eric had explained that it’s his best friend’s art, and Jack asked if he could meet her. Eric assured him he could later, if he really wanted to.

“You know,” Jack says, backing away from a painting and turning back to Eric, “I was supposed to go on a date tonight. That’s why I’m in the city.”

“Oh? What happened?”

Jack shrugs. “Not sure. He didn’t show up.”

 _He._ Eric’s heart skips a beat. Maybe there’s a chance.

“What? What idiot would bail on a date with  _you_?” He blushes as the words leave his mouth. Jack smirks, but in the most endearing way.

“Not sure. Anyway, I heard about this exhibit the other day and figured I should stop in while I’m here.”

“And you’re enjoying it?”

Jack nods, taking a small sip of his own wine. “I’ve never been into art much, honestly. Photography a little bit, but never anything quite like this. It’s amazing.”

Eric nods, smiling. “Hey, Jack?”

“Hm?”

_Fuck, Eric, just say it. You got this._

“I know you said your date stood you up, so would you maybe wanna try…a different date?”

Jack stops. Smiles at Eric. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Eric laughs, feeling a little relieved. Triumphant, even. “Cool.”  
  


* * *

  
“So, Jack, was it?” Lardo asks.

Jack nods.

“What’s your favorite piece in the gallery?”

“Hmm…” Jack says, looking around. His eyes land on Eric and he smiles, gesturing to him. Eric promptly chokes on a sip of wine.

Lardo rolls her eyes. “Comparing him to a piece of art, very classic.”

Jack shrugs and chuckles. His face is almost as red as Eric’s.  
  


* * *

  
“So, I was wondering. Do you want to, um…come back to my place?” Jack asks. The gallery is about to close. It’s nearly empty now.

His heart is about to explode, that’s the only way Eric can describe how that sentence makes him feel.

“S-sure, yeah! That sounds like…fun…” he finishes awkwardly.

“Alright. I’ll go get us a cab. You know, so we can avoid the subway?”

He’ll be damned if there aren’t literal cartoon hearts in his pupils. He nods and thanks Jack, running to find Lardo immediately.

“Bits? You alright? You look a little flustered.”

He nods and explains breathlessly. “I am. He invited me back to his place.”

She laughs, patting him on the back. “Holy shit, look at you go dude!”

He smiles proudly. He’s a little drunk, so he hugs her. Giddiness and nerves are taking over.

“You know, Eric, he  _could_  be a murderer. He could, like, collect toys from Happy Meals. He could be totally bizarre and have moose heads hanging everywhere or some shit.”

He shrugs as he pulls away from the hug. “I don’t really care. I’m having sex tonight!” he almost yells as he runs out of the gallery, leaving Lardo doubled over and wheezing.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to fic on Tumblr: ([X](http://bittlebunny.tumblr.com/post/145643794058/4-8-15-16-23-42-zimbits-pick-which-one-you-like))  
> Talk to me in the comments :D


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